


Be the net I fall into

by icandrawamoth



Series: Kinktober 2018 [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Deepthroating, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Kneeling, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Mild S&M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho has watched him slip closer to losing it by the hour, so in retrospect, it isn't that surprising when they finally shut themselves into their room for the night and Wedge drops to his knees, looking up at him with soft, desperate, trusting brown eyes and murmuring, “Please, Tycho, I need it. Take me away.”





	Be the net I fall into

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober day five prompt "sadism/masochism."

Tycho knows Wedge has been on the edge all day. He's sat by his side through countless meetings, command briefings, attempts to find pilots to replace those lost on Rogue Squadron's last mission, the overwhelming daily minutiae of fighting a seemingly-endless war. Wedge is tried, frustrated, and stressed; Tycho has watched him slip closer to losing it by the hour. So in retrospect, it isn't that surprising when they finally shut themselves into their room for the night and Wedge drops to his knees, looking up at him with soft, trusting brown eyes and murmuring, “Please, Tycho, I need it. Take me away.”

Tycho squeezes his eyes closed. It's probably not a good time for this, but Wedge on his knees begging is a sight stronger men than he would have a hard time resisting. And it's not like this is brand new to either of them. If it's what Wedge wants, who is is Tycho to deny him? Wedge knows how to bring it to a stop if he needs to, and Tycho trusts him to do it.

Tycho opens his eyes, meets his partner's desperate gaze with his own. “What color?”

He sees Wedge's intake of breath, the relief that flashes across his face almost too fast to see. “Green.”

Tycho slaps him.

Wedge rocks with it, gasping, and a hand comes up to his cheek out of instinct as he bows his head. Tycho watches his shoulders rise and fall as his breathing quickens, takes in the pretty reddening of his cheek as his hand drops again.

“What color?”

“Green, Tycho,” Wedge affirms quietly. “More. Please.”

“Don't speak again unless you need to change your color,” Tycho says and gets a nod.

Tycho takes a breath, letting himself slide fully into the role. It comes easy now, sometimes easier than he'd like. He buries a hand in Wedge's hair, hears the cry he almost instantly clamps off as Tycho jerks him forward.

“Is this what you want?” Hand still in Wedge's hair, Tycho yanks him closer, forcing his face against the growing bulge in Tycho's pants.

Wedge makes a sort of desperate noise, then he's moving, mouthing hungrily at the fabric over Tycho's cock. His hands come up to grasp at Tycho's hips, but Tycho knocks them away.

“Hands behind your back,” he commands, and Wedge obeys instantly, wrists together at the small of his back, the shift in balance pressing more of him against Tycho for a moment before he rights himself.

“That's it. Now, the zipper. No hands.”

Wedge takes a shuddering breath, adjusts himself as he tries to get at Tycho's zipper. He noses eagerly at the slit in the fabric of his pants, searching. All the while, Tycho's hand is still in his hair, keeping just enough pressure to make Wedge whine in the back of his throat.

Wedge is diligent at his work, teeth and lips scrabbling for purchase on the metal tab, but he can't seem to manage. It keeps slipping out of his grip, unmoving, and now there are distressed sounds bubbling from his throat, not quite words but plenty to tell Tycho he's beginning to get upset. That's anything but what he wants.

Wordlessly, Tycho drags him back, pulling down the zipper himself in one smooth motion, pushing his pants and underwear down just far enough around his hips to get his cock out and push it into his partner's face. “I'm going to fuck your mouth now,” he says, voice a low rumble, and Wedge whimpers in anticipation.

A moment later, his lips are closing around Tycho's length, hot and eager. Tycho lets him suckle at it for a few moments, thoroughly enjoying the sensation, before he jerks at his hair again, a silent reminder that Wedge isn't in charge here. Wedge stills, and Tycho uses the hand in his hair to tilt his head back, pressing in deeper. “Open for me,” he instructs.

Wedge does, swallowing around him, and Tycho lets out a sharp groan as he presses into his throat, thrusting into the velvet tightness. “Gods, Wedge,” he grunts, and Wedge hums around him, pleased. Saliva slides over his perfect lips, slicking Tycho's cock and balls. Tycho picks up his pace, fucking into his throat, chasing orgasm.

Suddenly, Wedge gags, throat fluttering around Tycho's cock, and Tycho backs off just long enough to let him catch his breath, then presses in again. “You take me so well,” he grates out, both hands tangled in Wedge's hair now as he thrusts deep inside him, strokes short and sharp. “Sometimes it feels like your throat was made just for me.”

Wedge whines at his words, and the added vibration is enough to push Tycho over the edge. His hands tighten even more in Wedge's hair, hold him close as he pumps his seed inside him. He stays there for long moments, breathing harshly as he comes down, then slowly withdraws.

Wedge gasps for air as his mouth is emptied, panting raggedly.

His own breathing having mostly evened out again, Tycho lets go of him and steps back. Immediately, Wedge's gaze snaps up to him, questioning.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Wedge hesitates.

“You'll pleasure yourself for me, you'll come when I tell you, and then we'll be finished,” Tycho tells him. “Are you still green?”

“Still green,” Wedge rasps, and Tycho shivers to hear how abused his throat sounds.

Wedge starts to move, and Tycho instructs, “Unzip and pull your underwear down just below your balls. Then touch yourself. Slow.”

Wedge keeps his eyes downcast as he obeys, cheeks red. Even after all this time, he's still often shy about showing himself to Tycho like this, as much as he knows Tycho loves seeing it. He gets himself into the requested state, then runs a hand over himself, the other going back behind his back, and Tycho is pleased that he does it without being commanded.

“Look at me,” Tycho does say and struggles not to smile when Wedge meets his eyes.

Wedge begins to stroke himself, long, fluid sweeps of his hand that soon have him trembling. He's so on edge already. His look intensifies, asking Tycho when, his teeth sinking into his lip as he begins to thrust into his own hand. Tycho gives it another minute or two, just long enough to hear the delicious, desperate sounds start to bubble up out of his throat before he instructs, “Come for me, Wedge.”

One, two more tugs, and he does, bowing over with it was he gasps, shoulders shaking with the force his release.

The spell that's been woven around them melts away as Tycho goes to his knees and pulls Wedge into his arms, holding him close as he trembles through the last shocks of pleasure. He's crying a little, Tycho thinks, and though that's not unusual after a scene, it still makes his gut feel hollow.

After a few more moments, Tycho makes himself lean back a little, Wedge's face gently framed in his hands so he can look at him. His cheeks are blotchy and damp, but there's a calm in his eyes now that wasn't there before. Tycho touches the mark of his hand on his cheek. “Did I hurt you? More than you wanted me to?”

Wedge reaches up a still-shaky hand and presses it over Tycho's, lashes fluttering at the pressure against sensitive skin. He shakes his head.

“Can you talk to me, let me know you're okay?”

“I'm okay,” Wedge tells him quietly and gives a little smile. “Can I just–?” He leans in again, chest pressed to Tycho's, and lays his head on his shoulder.

“Of course.” Tycho wraps an arm around his waist, the other rubbing gently along his back before moving to card through his hair, fingers easing gently across his scalp. “And here?” he asks.

“Fine,” Wedge mumbles. He sounds well on his way to sleep. “You made me feel good, Tycho.”

“And you me.” Tycho turns to touch a light kiss to his swollen cheek. “You're always so good for me, Wedge.”

“Bed now?” Wedge asks.

“Of course, love.” Tycho just manages to get his near dead weight to his feet and help him stumble over to the bed and sit down. He cleans the two of them off and gets Wedge a glass of water. When he's has finished, Tycho sets the glass aside and steps away again to fish in a drawer and a moment later is back with Wedge's favorite pajamas, a fuzzy purple set he keeps as one of his few indulgences. Wedge smiles again, soft and sleepy, and makes all the appropriate movements to let Tycho put them on him, albeit heavy and sluggish.

That finished, Tycho quickly changes into his own sleep clothes, and when he turns around again, Wedge has slumped over on his pillow and appears to be dozing. Tycho just watches him for a moment, a sort of tender ache in his chest, before he gently ushers him under the covers and crawls in beside him. It's no effort at all to turn the lamp off and coax Wedge close again, let him take his rightful place under one arm with his head pillowed on his chest.

As Tycho listens to the even sounds of his breathing, he realizes he feels lighter too. He can only hope that it will last, that tomorrow won't be as hard on either of them.


End file.
